Work Text:
Japan had just lost. Sae had just lost.
Again. To Spain. Again. To Bunny Iglesias.
Sae was seriously beginning to suspect that the universe held a personal vendetta against him. The final whistle had blown fifteen minutes ago; while the Spanish players were still out on the pitch celebrating, the Japanese team was back in the tunnels, silently processing the heavy loss.
And Sae? Sae was trying very hard not to think about the match at all. Because if he started analyzing it now, he might punch a wall. Or a Spaniard. Possibly both.
Hoping to regain his composure, he walked down the stadium corridor alone, enveloped in the quiet chill of the concrete hallway.
Then, he heard footsteps approaching.
He knew immediately who it was. Nobody else in professional football walked with the absolute confidence of someone who had never once doubted a decision in his entire life.
Vivian Hugo. Of course.
Sae closed his eyes briefly, exhaled, and opened them just as the French midfielder stopped right in front of him. Hugo was holding his usual blank notebook, his expression calm, serious—dangerously serious.
Sae’s instincts immediately flared with suspicion. Hugo only ever looked like that when he was about to say something life-changing or catastrophic. Usually both.
"I watched your match," Hugo spoke, breaking the silence. "Unfortunately. You played well."
Sae sighed, slightly relieved. "Thank you."
A normal conversation, Sae thought. Good. Excellent. Maybe this would remain normal.
Hugo nodded slowly, as if confirming a private thesis in his head. Then, he delivered the punchline: "I know we are not dating. But let's get married."
The hallway went dead silent. The kind of heavy, suffocating silence usually associated with impending natural disasters.
Sae just stared. He stared because surely, surely, his brain was misinterpreting the French accent. Meanwhile, Hugo patiently waited, looking as relaxed as if he had just asked Sae whether he wanted sugar in his coffee.
Sae’s brain was struggling violently. Ten minutes ago, he had lost a World Cup semifinal. Now, a French midfielder was proposing to him. Without dating. Without courting. Without warning. Without any basic human procedure.
When Sae finally found his voice, it came out as a flat, "...What?"
"We should get married," Hugo repeated, entirely unfazed.
"No."
Hugo frowned slightly. Not because he was hurt by the rejection, but because it appeared Sae had somehow missed a crucial part of the explanation. He clarified, "I have considered it carefully."
"That worries me."
"It is efficient."
"Marriage?" Sae challenged, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes."
Desperately, Sae looked around the corridor. He looked for cameras, microphones, hidden prank shows—anything that would make this a joke. There was nothing. This was real.
Sae pointed a finger at his own chest. "I just lost to Spain."
"Yes."
"I am upset."
"Yes."
"I am frustrated."
"Yes."
"I am currently having the absolute worst day of this entire tournament."
"Yes."
"Then why are you proposing to me right now?"
Hugo actually paused to think about it, processing the timeline. Then, he answered with total sincerity: "Because you are available."
The hallway somehow became even quieter, a feat Sae hadn't thought physically possible. He stared at Hugo for so long that even the Frenchman began to reevaluate his choice of words.
"...That sounded wrong," Hugo admitted.
"Correct."
"Very wrong."
"Correct."
Hugo tried again, adjusting his approach. "You are not dating anyone."
"..."
"I am not dating anyone."
"..."
"We already know each other for years."
"..."
"And I like you."
The last sentence was delivered so casually that Sae almost missed it. Almost. Then his brain caught up and promptly stalled again. Hugo had never actually said that part out loud before. Not directly. Not like this.
Sae rubbed his temple slowly, trying to determine whether the match against Spain had given him a concussion.
"What the..."
Another voice shattered the silence. Both midfielders turned their heads to find half of Japan's national team standing at the end of the hallway, completely frozen in shock. Isagi, Karasu, Niko, Reo, Aiku, and several others were wide-eyed, staring at them like they'd seen a ghost.
Unfortunately, they had heard everything. Every single word.
Isagi pointed a trembling finger at Hugo. "Did he... did he just propose?"
Karasu answered immediately, his voice dripping with disbelief, "He absolutely did."
"Without dating?" Reo chimed in.
"Without dating."
"Right after Japan lost?" Aiku asked.
"Right after Japan lost."
Niko looked thoroughly horrified. "That’s terrible timing."
"Historically terrible," Karasu agreed grimly.
Sae wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
Hugo looked at the frozen Japanese players, then back at Sae, completely missing the tension. He asked, "Would a different day be better?"
The entire Japanese team collectively screamed, "YES!"
Even Sae. Especially Sae.
And for the first time since the final whistle had blown, Sae let out a genuine laugh. Because somehow, only Vivian Hugo could look at a devastated World Cup semifinalist and decide: This seems like the perfect moment to propose marriage.
***
The hallway somehow became even more chaotic—which was deeply impressive, considering a marriage proposal had already taken place in front of half the Japanese national team right after a devastating World Cup semifinal loss.
Hugo looked at Sae, thought for a moment, and apparently decided that the logical solution to a rejection was to negotiate.
"Okay," Hugo said.
Sae’s instincts immediately flared. Very suspicious. Because whenever Vivian Hugo said "okay," something utterly insane usually followed.
The French midfielder nodded to himself. "If I beat Spain... especially Bunny Iglesias... will you accept my proposal?"
The entire hallway froze. Again.
Isagi’s soul visibly left his body. Karasu physically grabbed the concrete wall for support, while Niko looked like he was witnessing a severe medical emergency.
Meanwhile, Sae simply stared. There was absolutely no way this conversation was real. He pointed a finger at Hugo, his movements slow and deliberate.
"You do realize," Sae began, "what our ages are?"
"What?"
"I just turned eighteen."
"Yes."
"And you're nineteen."
"Yes."
Sae waited, but Hugo just stared back, as if expecting a point that actually mattered.
Sae rubbed his temples. "We are teenagers."
The French midfielder frowned. "No."
"We are."
"No."
"Hugo."
"We are adults," Hugo corrected him immediately, delivering the statement with the absolute confidence of a mathematician presenting a proven theorem. He crossed his arms. "In my country, we can legally marry."
Karasu immediately turned toward the wall, his shoulders shaking because he was laughing too hard to breathe. Meanwhile, Isagi had developed a hollow, thousand-yard stare.
Sae exhaled a sharp, painful breath. "We are football players."
"Correct."
"We are in the middle of a World Cup."
"Correct."
"I just lost."
"Correct."
"And you should be preparing for the final match."
"Correct."
"Then why on earth are we discussing marriage?"
Hugo considered the question seriously. Then, he answered with total blank-faced honesty: "Because I already prepared for the final."
The silence that followed was devastating. Absolutely devastating.
"What do you mean you already prepared?!" Charles suddenly appeared out of nowhere, as if physically summoned by the sheer aura of chaos.
Hugo looked down at his younger teammate. "I studied Spain."
"For how long?"
"Three months."
Charles blinked once, twice, and then slowly turned to look at Sae with deep, profound pity. "Itoshi."
"Yes?"
"I'm so sorry."
Before Sae could process the apology, Loki arrived, also somehow appearing out of thin air. He took one look at the tense gathering, one look at Hugo, and one look at Sae's exhausted expression, and he immediately knew. Something terrible had happened. Again.
"What did he do?" Loki sighed, sounding like a tired father of ten.
"He proposed," Karasu supplied cheerfully from the sidelines.
Loki closed his eyes instantly. "No."
"He did," Isagi confirmed.
"No."
"He really did, Master," Reo added.
Loki pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply before turning to his midfielder. "Hugo."
"What?"
"Why?"
Hugo looked genuinely confused by the interrogation. "Because I like him."
"And...?"
"I wish to marry him." Hugo paused, then added, "Eventually."
Loki almost felt a wave of relief wash over him. Almost.
Then Hugo continued, "So, right now, I am gathering information."
"There it is," Charles sighed, throwing his hands up. "There it is."
Sae finally looked back at Hugo. He was still exhausted, still incredibly annoyed, and still emotionally drained from losing to Spain. Yet somehow, a tiny, ridiculous part of him found this whole absurd situation amusing.
"Let's assume," Sae said, his tone sharp.
Instantly, every single player in the hallway leaned in closer to listen.
"Let's assume you beat Spain," Sae continued. "Let's assume France wins. And let's assume I don't reject you immediately. What exactly happens next?"
For the first time, a small, rare smile touched the French midfielder's lips. It was faint, but dangerously confident.
"I court you properly," Hugo answered.
The hallway fell entirely quiet. That wasn't the answer anyone expected. No sudden marriage, no dramatic elopement, no contratos. Just that.
"I buy flowers," Hugo continued, his voice dropping into a calmer rhythm.
"You already do that," Sae pointed out flatly.
"More flowers," Hugo clarified. "I take you on dates. I learn what food you like. I ask for permission before holding your hand."
The Japanese players exchanged glances. Suddenly, the proposal sounded slightly less insane. Not much less, but the sheer, old-fashioned sincerity of it was hard to ignore.
Hugo finished, his eyes locked onto Sae's. "And when you are certain... when I am certain... then I will ask again."
For a long moment, nobody spoke. The silence stretched until Otoya nudged Isagi with his elbow, whispering, "Hey... that’s actually kinda romantic, isn't it?"
"I hate that you're right," Isagi muttered back, rubbing his face.
Meanwhile, Sae stared at Hugo for so long that even the Frenchman began to wonder if he had miscalculated his phrasing. Finally, Sae let out the longest, most world-weary sigh of the evening.
"Win the World Cup first," Sae muttered, turning his back.
Hugo blinked. Once. Then twice.
His eyes widened slightly as the realization hit him. That wasn't a rejection. Not even close.
And suddenly, France's upcoming final against Spain felt very, very personal.
***
The hallway became dead silent. Again.
At this point, everyone present had collectively accepted a new reality: every single sentence out of Hugo’s mouth would somehow make things either drastically worse or bizarrely better. Nobody knew anymore. They were all just along for the ride.
Hugo nodded thoughtfully, taking Sae’s previous statement with absolute, terrifying seriousness. “Win the World Cup first.” To Hugo, it was a reasonable condition. Achievable. Potentially.
He locked eyes with Sae and immediately continued, "So, after we are married—"
The entire Japanese team groaned loudly, a synchronized chorus of pure exhaustion. The man had already accepted the premise. He was already at the finish line.
Sae immediately pointed a sharp finger at him. "No."
"What?"
"We are not skipping steps."
"We are discussing future logistics," Hugo countered smoothly.
"We are not."
"We should." Hugo crossed his arms, continuing anyway. "After we are married—"
"Hugo."
"—and you move with me—"
"Hugo!"
"—you agree to get French nationality, right?"
The hallway absolutely exploded.
"What?!" Isagi shrieked.
"HE'S PLANNING CITIZENSHIP NOW?!" Reo yelled, clutching his head.
"AIKU, CALL AN ADULT!" Karasu barked.
"I AM AN ADULT!" Aiku shouted back, looking completely stressed.
"CALL A DIFFERENT ADULT!"
Meanwhile, Sae was just staring. Total, unblinking disbelief. Somehow—by some twisted miracle—the actual marriage proposal wasn't even the craziest part of this conversation anymore.
Hugo calmly explained his airtight logic: "That way, we can finally play together internationally."
Silence fell over the corridor. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
Sae blinked. Once. Twice. Then he pointed to his own chest. "You want me..."
"Yes."
"...to change my nationality..."
"Yes."
"...so we can play for France."
"Yes."
The answers came instantly. Without hesitation. Without shame. Without a single survival instinct present in Hugo’s entire body.
"I can transfer to Real Madrid," Hugo continued, laying out his master plan. "I cannot change my nationality from France. Therefore, you are the more flexible variable. Besides, you will get Free Movement if you have my passport."
Sae nearly dropped dead on the spot from sheer mental exhaustion. Karasu actually slid down the concrete wall and sat flat on the floor, because standing up was no longer physically possible under the weight of this absurdity.
Isagi looked toward the stadium ceiling, searching the heavens for answers, and finding absolutely none.
Sae rubbed his temples slowly, painfully. "Hugo."
"What?"
"You do realize..."
"What?"
"...I am Japanese."
"Yes."
"I was born Japanese."
"Yes."
"I play for Japan."
"Yes."
"I love my country."
"Yes."
Sae paused, taking a deep breath. "...Then why on earth would I play for France?"
Hugo paused. It was a very rare occurrence, a genuine glitch in his programming. Apparently, he hadn't actually factored that specific variable into his three months of intense preparation.
Then, he delivered his final defense: "Because I would be there."
The silence that followed was catastrophic. Absolutely catastrophic.
"No," Loki muttered.
"Loki?" Charles called out, watching his captain retreat.
"I am not participating," Loki called back, speeding up his pace.
"Loki!"
"I refuse."
"Loki, wait!"
"I lead a national team to a World Cup final," Loki’s voice echoed down the hall. "I did not sign up for whatever this is."
Meanwhile, Sae simply covered his face with both hands. This was unbearable. Actually, physically unbearable.
Hugo looked around, genuinely confused by the reaction. "Was that incorrect?"
"Extremely," Sae choked out from behind his hands.
Hugo frowned, his brain entering a deep processing loop. He thought. He analyzed. Then, finally, a spark of realization lit up his face. "Oh."
Everyone waited. The Japanese players, Charles, even Sae—they were all mentally praying, hoping, begging for a shred of character growth. For maturity. For basic human common sense to prevail.
Hugo nodded, understanding at last. "I see."
Sae let out a tiny sigh of relief, lowering his hands. Finally. Finally.
Then Hugo finished his thought: "Then I will simply have to defeat Japan every World Cup."
The entire hallway screamed in unison, "THAT'S NOT BETTER!"
Even Sae screamed. Especially Sae.
Somewhere nearby, the celebrating Spanish players could probably hear the collective, agonizing suffering of two completely different national teams—all because one French midfielder had somehow managed to turn a post-semifinal "good game" into a mandatory acquisition of French citizenship.
The hallway somehow became even worse—which should have been mathematically impossible, yet here they were.
Sae was still mentally recovering from a brutal checklist of disasters: losing to Spain, getting proposed to, and being informed that he was apparently the centerpiece of a five-year international marriage plan.
Then, Hugo nodded seriously, as though he had just solved a major tactical problem on a whiteboard. "I have another reason."
Sae immediately, deeply regretted asking. "What?"
"If you change nationality, France allows same-sex marriage."
The entire hallway froze. Again. At this point, the concrete walls of the stadium corridor deserved financial compensation for what they were being forced to witness.
"You can keep playing football," Hugo reasoned, entirely blank-faced. "And if you still want Madrid, I can move there."
Now, it was Loki’s turn to snap his head around, his eyes wide. "What?"
Hugo looked over at his coach. "I received an offer."
"You never told me that!" Loki stammered.
"You didn't ask."
Charles physically sat flat on the floor. He could no longer remain standing under the sheer weight of his teammate's casual bombshells.
Hugo looked back at Sae, his gaze completely serious. "Arsenaly is good. But Re Al is where you are. So, moving would be logical."
Sae covered his face with his hands again. Because unfortunately—horrifyingly—that sounded exactly like something Vivian Hugo would genuinely, unironically do.
"I cannot become Japanese," the midfielder continued, breaking down the variables. "But I can become your teammate at the club level. Therefore, our international teams are the only remaining obstacle."
Sae felt his soul leaving his body. Slowly. Peacefully. Drifting away from this godforsaken hallway.
"He's planning nationality changes like tactical substitutions," Karasu whispered frantically to Isagi.
"I know," Isagi whimpered.
"I'm scared."
"I am too."
Sae finally gave up. He crouched down, then sat flat on the floor. Not because he was injured, and not because he was tired, but because remaining upright had become a physical impossibility. The stress, the proposal, the citizenship debate—it was too much.
Hugo noticed this and immediately stepped closer, looming over Sae with a look of absolute, unblinking focus.
"Since you agree to marry me if I beat Spain," Hugo stated, his voice completely flat yet entirely serious, "I think we should do a French kiss. Since I am French."
The hallway went so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Isagi’s jaw hit the floor. Karasu choked on his own saliva, coughing violently, while Reo grabbed Niko's shoulders and began shaking him in pure panic.
Sae slowly looked up from the floor, his expression a mixture of profound exhaustion and sheer disbelief. "We are not doing that."
"It is culturally appropriate," Hugo countered seamlessly.
"It is absolutely not."
"It would seal the contract."
"There is no contract!" Sae snapped, his eye twitching.
Hugo stared down at him for a moment, processing the rejection. Then, deciding that if he couldn't have a kiss, he would choose the next logical alternative to fix Sae's obvious state of collapse, Hugo bent down.
Without a single word of warning, he effortlessly scooped Sae up into his arms. Princess style.
The entire hallway absolutely exploded.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" Isagi shrieked, jumping backward.
"HE PICKED HIM UP! HE JUST PICKED HIM UP!" Reo yelled, pointing wildly.
"AIKU, CALL AN ADULT!" Karasu roared.
"I KEEP TELLING YOU, I AM AN ADULT!" Aiku screamed in pure stress.
Sae froze. Completely, utterly froze. One moment he had been sitting on the floor, and the next, he was airborne. He stared blankly up at Hugo. "What... are you doing?"
The answer came instantly, delivered with terrifying confidence. "Carrying my fiancée."
The hallway died. Actually, physically died.
Karasu collapsed against the wall, clutching his chest. Isagi made a high-pitched sound that wasn't humanly possible, and even Loki looked like he wanted to resign from football entirely and become a farmer.
Sae, still being carried like a delicate bride, pointed a slow finger at himself. "Your what?"
"My fiancée."
"I never accepted."
"You said win the World Cup first," Hugo reminded him. "I am currently working on that objective. Therefore: fiancée candidate."
The correction was somehow infinitely worse. Hugo adjusted his grip slightly, shifting Sae’s weight as though carrying Japan’s star midfielder through a stadium corridor was the most natural thing in the world. Meanwhile, Sae was seriously considering murder. Just a little bit.
Hugo looked down at him, his eyes showing a rare flash of genuine concern. "You looked like you were about to faint."
"I was not," Sae snapped.
"You were sitting on the floor."
"Because of you."
"Oh." Hugo paused, digesting the data. "That makes sense."
For some reason, that specific answer annoyed Sae more than anything else.
Hugo didn't put him down. Instead, he simply turned and started walking toward the exit, still carrying Sae as if this were a perfectly normal post-match routine.
Sae pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a massive headache forming. "Hugo."
"What?"
"Put me down."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You still look pale."
"I wonder why," Sae muttered, his biting sarcasm completely bouncing off the Frenchman.
Hugo stopped, looking genuinely thoughtful for a moment before delivering one final, devastating sentence—the exact sentence that finally made Julian Loki choke on his own breath.
"If it helps... when we get married, I'll carry you across the threshold too."
As Hugo walked out into the night, still carrying a completely defeated Sae, the entire Japanese national team collectively came to a single, unspoken realization:
Losing to Spain had not been the worst thing that happened to Itoshi Sae today. Vivian Hugo was.
End.